


Line of Duty

by glitterbb



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Alternate Universe - Police, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Drama, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2019-10-12 18:09:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17472437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitterbb/pseuds/glitterbb
Summary: Oliver transfers to a new area, looking for a new start. Instead he finds Connor.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so YES, in SOME ways this fic bears some resemblance to my other fic Rapture (Yes, I never finished it, and I STILL feel completely terrible), but this idea came and it felt too perfect for a Coliver-verse fic to allow it to slip away, so please bear with me as I try and make it to the end of this, and enjoyyyy

Oliver sighed heavily as he readjusted his hat on his head. Street patrol was the absolute worst, but as the new kid in town, he'd resigned himself to the fact that he'd be subjected to the rough jobs to start with. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Oliver had loved being in the NYPD. Great colleagues, great precinct, he even had a nice little apartment in the West Village. He had friends, a career, a social life. He was set. 

Then Ben came along, and his whole world turned upside down. 

He was smitten from day one, but the chances of a detective even noticing his existence felt slim from the offset. But Ben wasn't like the others. He was smart, and funny. He looked at the officers like colleagues, not lesser beings, and he learnt their names. Well, Oliver's name at least. Months of flirting turned into a date. Then one date into two, then three until before they knew it they were celebrating their two year anniversary and hurtling towards their third Christmas together. 

They were the happiest two years of Oliver's life. Sure there were ups and downs, arguments and disagreements, but the making up afterwards always somehow made it worthwhile. Their relationship thrived, Oliver spending every day questioning just how he got lucky enough to find someone so intellectual, yet interesting and fun with a killer body to boot. Those things only happened in fiction, and yet Ben was there, a mesmerising reality.

He felt like he should have seen it coming, yet when Ben told him they needed to talk, he allowed his head to float into the clouds with thoughts of platinum bands, seating plans and gift registries. The bump as he came back down to earth hurt more than he'd expected he might.

Ben wanted a break. It was looking likely he'd secured the promotion he'd been working for and something had to give, but Oliver had never guessed it might be him. The final dagger through the heart occurred as Ben explained how a Seargent just couldn't be seen dating an officer.

Work became a chore, every day a cruel reminder of what he'd had and lost. Exes working in such close proximity was as bad an idea as it sounded and Oliver struggled to get a grip of his emotions, especially watching the man he'd loved so dearly so clearly thriving without him.

It was the engagement that served as the final straw, seeing the other man move on so quickly and effortlessly broke him so completely that Oliver wasn't quite sure he'd ever recover. He needed an out, a new path to take him away from the mess his life had become and a transfer seemed like the best choice. Now, six months later and he was ready to start fresh and find his way in Philadelphia.

Navigating the city felt tougher than Oliver had reckoned it would be. The fast pace of New York City was intimidating, but Oliver knew the area like the back of his hand and felt a certain degree of safety and familiarity. Philadelphia was confusing and complex, and the quieter streets of Kensington felt unnerving when patrolling alone.

The long days were starting to take their toll, and in all honesty, he was beginning to doubt that Philadelphia was where he wanted to stay. It had been a fast track. The nearest transfer he could get at short notice, but the other officers just weren't quite what he was used to. For such a supposedly young and vibrant city, it was rapidly becoming clear that their Police Force had some catching up to do. He'd wanted to stay as close as possible to his family, but he was starting to wonder if a clean break away was exactly what he needed. Somewhere he could thrive in his personal and social life as well as at work.

Oliver pulled himself from his patrol car. The streets were quiet and if he spent one more moment sitting, staring out of the window, he was liable to go insane. His gym routine had taken a hit in the chaos of his move and he needed to feel like he'd at least made some movement.

He hitched his belt up as he walked, the weight of the paraphernalia attached to it causing it to slowly sink back down again to where it had been. His radio burbled against his chest and he heaved a sigh of relief as it became clear it was nothing he needed to assist with. 

The silence on the street was broken by the loud clatter of a metal trash against the sidewalk, out of sight, but unquestionably nearby. Oliver edged forwards cautiously, suspicions raised by the small alleyway just ahead of him. His fingers wrapped around his gun as he tiptoed towards the opening, the unmistakable sound of hushed, hissing voices masked around the corner. 

"Who's down there?" He asked sharply, swallowing back his fear, beginning to wish he'd just stayed in the car. This was just his fucking luck. He could see the headlines already, 'New cop in town attacked on street'... or worse. 

The voices descended into a commotion, growing louderand more agitated. Another clatter and the sound of metal followed by a yelp and groan. Oliver's heart thumped against his chest and he stepped forwards as a figure emerged, brushing past him and running off at breakneck speed, without looking back. Oliver stepped forwards to give chase. A middle aged man, yet relatively fit looking, gym gear, dark hair, the rest difficult to make out. He passed the opening to the alleyway and his attention shifted instead to the slumped figure against the wall. He glanced back to his escaping assailant and sighed. There was no way he was catching up to him now anyway. 

He dropped his gun, tucking it back on his belt as he made his way towards the other person. Concerned but cautious. He'd seen too many colleagues learn the hard way that not all victims were quite as innocent as they seemed. 

The guy was young, maybe early twenties. Dark hair fell messily in his eyes, stubble framing his jaw line. A small stream of crimson blood fell from his nose, another from a cut on his lip. He was conscious, but dazed. 

"Hey dude, you okay?" Oliver asked as he neared him, stopping a few steps shy. The guy growled to himself, rolling his head slowly to look at Oliver. 

"I'm fucking fine." The other man growled, scrabbling to his feet, sweeping the long fringe back from his face. As he straightened up, Oliver got the chance to take him in fully. Dark jeans with torn knees clung to his thin legs tightly. A plain white tee hung loose, the v neck cut slightly deeper than was probably necessary, and the black leather bomber looked perfect on him. The guy could have easily passed for a model if it wasn't for the tell tale smear of cum across his left cheek. Suddenly everything made sense. 

"You don't look fine." Oliver mumbled, stepping forwards again. If this guy was going to attack him, he'd have done it by now, of that he was sure. He placed a hand on the other man's shoulder, only to find it unceremoniously shrugged off almost immediately. 

"Well he fucked off without paying so I'm not the best I've ever been." He hissed angrily, stumbling around slightly, finding his bearings. 

"You're bleeding." Oliver offered feebly, scrabbling around in his pockets for gloves and some kind of tissue. The other guy brought his sleeve to his nose, wiping it across and inspecting the residue before Oliver even had a chance to pull one glove over his hand. 

"Well today just gets better." He huffed. 

"Let me help you." Oliver offered, holding out a hand. The other man looked down at it with a scowl, lips curling up into a smirk as his eyes lifted and he finally looked Oliver straight in the face. Deep hazel eyes stared back at him, a confident bemusement twinkled behind them. 

"I told you, I'm fine." He insisted slowly, brushing past Oliver, making his way to the street. His hand reached down and covertly clutched at his hip as he tried in vain to mask a slight limp too. Oliver jogged slowly after him. 

"Can I at least get your name then?"

The man stopped, turning back, lips twisted into a grin as a hollow laugh escaped. 

"Look, if you're going to arrest me just slap the cuffs on already." He shrugged, holding his wrists out in front of himself expectantly, separating his feet as if squaring up to him. Oliver looked him up and down and took a deep breath. This guy wasn't as intimidating as he clearly thought he was. Slim frame, matching height, he wasn't exactly overbearing, and Oliver had met enough hookers in New York to know that outer wall was tough yet paper thin. He stepped forwards, wrapping his hand slowly around one outstretched wrist, sliding his other arm supportively around the young man. 

"All I see, is the victim of an assault." He sighed, guiding the stranger to the street. "Now quit whining and just let me help you out." 

If the man resisted then Oliver didn't feel it, guiding him slowly towards the patrol car, feeling some of the tension melt away instantaneously.

"You should file a report." Oliver mumbled softly as they reached the sidewalk, the light exposing an already forming bruise to his cheek. "Don't let him get away with it."

The guy snorted with a shake of the head. 

"The second I filed a report I'd get hauled in for soliciting." He licked his lips, flinching as his tongue swept over the cut. 

"Let me see?" Oliver offered, leaning him against the side of the patrol car. The cut looked nasty but nothing too serious. Nothing an ice pack and some natural healing wouldn't fix. "I think you'll be fine, but maybe it's best if you call it a day. Go home, get some rest and see how you feel in the morning Mr..." He tailed off, waiting expectantly. 

The man looked him up and down before looking away with a sigh. 

"Connor." He mumbled. "Just call me Connor." 

Oliver smiled to himself. He loved the feeling of chipping away that first piece of armour.

"'Kay, Connor. How about you climb in and give me some directions?"

Connor climbed slowly in the passenger seat, stuffing his hands deep into his pockets and wrapping his jacket around himself as Oliver started up the car and pulled away. He sunk down into his seat. 

"So how come I haven't seen you around these parts of town before?" Connor asked, fidgeting slightly in his seat.

"Do you see many cops around here?"

"I'm a whore, Officer, you do the maths." His eyes sparkled again, a dry chuckle escaping his lips. "Left up here." He signalled absent mindedly.

Oliver nodded, flicking the indicator on and taking the turn. They were heading for the rougher side of town, that much he knew. 

"It's Oliver." He whispered. Connor's head shot round with a frown.

"Huh?"

"You can call me Oliver" He smiled. 

"Fine, so how come I haven't seen you before Oliver?" Connor repeated. "Are they so strapped for cash that they're sending the rookies out on street patrol?"

"Do I look like a rookie to you?" Oliver bit back his smirk.

"You don't seem as much of a jerk as some of old school." Connor shrugged with a confident bluntness.

He wasn't wrong. If there was one thing that Oliver had picked up it was that his new precinct had an alarming volume of power mad assholes who got their kicks from their complete arrest record rather than a genuine interest in helping people.

"I just transferred here from New York" Oliver mumbled. "So I guess that still makes me the new kid on the block."

"Oh wow," Connor snorted. "You must be running away from someone or something if you're making a transfer like that out of choice!" His eyes lifted and Oliver caught his gaze. Those deep hazel eyes twinkled slightly as the early evening sunlight caught them through the car window. Oliver's mind raced for an answer but Connor cut him off. "Just pull in on the right up here, just behind that truck."

They pulled up outside a rundown looking townhouse. Paint peeling and the lower windows boarded up. It was in definite need of some TLC. 

"Look, I'll level with you." Connor sighed, unclipping his seatbelt. "My lip feels swollen as hell, and there's no way I'm giving up my ass just for a ride home so you can settle for a handjob or an IOU?" He pouted, excentuating the cut to his lip. Oliver could almost feel his face burn with the undeniable blush he was immediately sporting. 

"Excuse me?" He stuttered, not sure if he'd misheard, or even somehow given this guy the wrong impression. He'd had his fair share of propositions over the years, but none quite as bold and matter of fact as this one and it unnerved him. Connor rolled his eyes with a snort. 

"You don't have to keep up the nice guy act, I know the drill. You guys don't just turn a blind eye unless you get something in return." He stared at Oliver expectantly. "So what's it going to be?"

Oliver licked his lips and took a deep breath. 

"How about you get out of the car, and I pretend we didn't have this conversation?" He muttered, not wanting to acknowledge the full depth of what Connor had just revealed to him. He knew the other officers were creeps, but this was a level he could have done without being exposed to quite so quickly. Connor paused, as if trying to figure out if this was part of some bigger sting before shrugging and pulling the door open. 

"If you insist?" He mumbled as he climbed out. "Cheers Officer..." He tailed off, turning back and peering to make out Oliver's name badge. "Hampton." He smiled to himself, the car shaking as he slammed the door shut. 

Oliver took another deep breath and opened the passenger side window. 

"Connor?" He called out, the other man turning back with a crooked grin, leaning into the open window. "Do you get many people take you up on that?" He croaked. Connor chuckled to himself. 

"You're the first one to turn me down." He smiled. "I don't know if I should be flattered or offended." Oliver smiled back at him with a slow shake of the head. 

"Be safe, Connor." He called out, pulling away slowly, leaving Connor standing on the curb, hoping somehow that wouldn't be the last he saw of him.


	2. Chapter 2

It was a cold night sat alone in the patrol car. Oliver pulled his jacket tighter around himself in an unsuccessful attempt to preserve body heat. Night shifts were bad enough as it was. Nothing happened at night, and when it did, it was often something gruesome or unappealing and mentally draining. The dark never failed to bring creeps out of their hiding places. 

He watched the group of young men congregated down the street, a car pulling up to the curb in front of them. One approached the window, leaning in before pulling the passenger door open and climbing in, the car driving off down the road. 

Oliver had made sure he was far enough away. He could see them but they couldn't see him. He didn't want to scare off their trade, but he wanted to make sure they were safe at least. Oliver didn't really want to acknowledge the fact he was looking for one in particular, but as fate would have it, Connor was nowhere to be seen.

His radio fuzzed with continuous back and forth exchanges. Drugs Bust in one corner of town, B&E in the other, and the rumblings of a bar brawl somewhere near the center, but nothing even remotely close enough for Oliver to attend and liven up proceedings for the night. 

The minutes ticked by like hours, and the hours felt like a lifetime, the silence and loneliness only serving to negatively impact on Oliver's mood further. 

New York hadn't been like this. The budget was higher and so every night he had a partner. Someone to riff off and distract him from everything he was wanting to run away from but this... this felt like a fast track to therapy. Every long drawn out second giving him far too long to consider everything he wanted to forget.

Maybe he was the problem. Maybe he genuinely had been the albatross around Ben's neck, dragging him down and holding him back. Maybe that was why the other man had thrived so effortlessly without him, whilst Oliver had crumbled under the overbearing feeling of loss. Thats why Ben was such a success and he was such an abject failure. Maybe that was why Ben was a seargent with a husband to boot, while Oliver remained an officer who went home at night to his empty apartment and his ready meal for one. 

He tapped his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel, willing the seconds to tick faster. Anything so he could get back to the station, clock off and get home to bed. Tomorrow was his mother's birthday and he needed to sound at least convincing when he told her he was doing well and looking after himself. Not to mention on the ball for the long, in-depth account of the life and times of her local church group that he received every week. It was often like a soap opera, and sometimes just as confusing to keep up to date with. 

A large SUV drove past, pulling up to the curb, its lights glaring into the darkness. The passenger door swung open and a figure hopped out, slamming the door shut and blowing a kiss back through the window. Dark jeans, leather jacket, confident swagger as he stuffed a handful of notes into his jeans pockets as the SUV pulled away with a screech of tyres. There was no doubt that was Connor.

Oliver found himself staring, watching as the other man made towards the congregated group down the street, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket and balancing one gently between his lips. He had no idea what it was about this guy that he found so intriguing. The cocky smirk, the cute eyes, the mysterious iron clad façade. All of it just felt so captivating, and Oliver had found himself distracted by thoughts of the other man far more times than he cared to admit. He didn't feel pity for Connor, and yet he felt somehow protective of him. Maybe it was partly the guilt of knowing the young man had undoubtedly been taken advantage of by his fellow officers. He wanted to make that right, even if it wasn't within his personal scope of possibility. 

He watched the way Connor held court in front of the other men. A variety of people, all different shapes, sizes and ages, yet all clinging on to his every word as if he was some self appointed leader. Connor exuded an undeniable confidence as he no doubt regaled them with stories of his night, punctuated with puffs on his cigarette, slowly exhaling the smoke into a swirl in the cool night air.

Oliver barely noticed as a small group ambled down the street. Men, staggering slightly, clearly having enjoyed their night a little too much already, not quite rowdy, but certainly on their way there. 

The ambled towards Connor and his group, Oliver noticed how Connor's eyes lit up as they approached, stepping into their path, rather than avoiding it, forcing them to accost him. Oliver didn't need to hear the conversation to figure out what was being said, or at least offered, as Connor grinned in their direction, flicking his cigarette away. His hand reached out, touching one man's arm suggestively, eyes sparkling as he capped the offer off with a wink. 

Oliver felt himself tense as the inevitable reaction came. The inebriated man shrugging Connor's touch away, before reciprocating with a violent shove. Fuck, did this kid not know how to stay out of trouble. 

The voices raised as the other drunk men waded in, Connor's friends moving in as defence, both sides coming together in a stand off. Oliver's heart sunk as he realised this was about to become a brawl at any second if he didn't do something fast. 

He grabbed his hat and climbed out of his car, running towards the dispute, as the shouts and shoves grew louder and fiercer. 

"Hey!" Oliver yelled out, stopping one of the drunken men in his tracks, fist raised in readiness to swing into Connor's cheek and no doubt give him a matching bruise on the opposite side of his face.

"Fucking cops!" Someone yelled, and the group seemed to disperse fairly rapidly. The drunk men running off in one direction, some of the younger escorts running off in another, leaving Connor and a few others languishing in their wake. Recognition flashed across Connor's face and he walked towards Oliver with a chuckle, leaving the remaining men to sort themselves out behind him. 

"What are you, my guardian angel?" He smirked, smugness radiating from him. "Are you following me officer? Because that offer the other night was non-transferable. You don't get to come back if you change your mind." 

"You're lucky I was following you, seeing as you have some sort of death wish?" Oliver hissed back. Connor rolled his eyes, folding his arms across himself. 

"I'm a big boy, officer, I can look out for myself." He tutted, the bruising on his cheek now a dark shade of yellow, the tell tale rains of his split lip still visible. 

"Yeah, forgive me if I'm not convinced." Oliver sighed. "What are you doing out here anyway? I didn't have you down as a street guy." He nodded over Connor's shoulder to the others.

Connor fidgeted slightly, his folded arms somehow squeezing even tighter like he might somehow suffocate himself. 

"It's always good for a back up, if it's a slow night online." He shrugged. "They're good guys. We have each others backs out here. Look out for each other." He paused, eyes sparkling, spoiling for a fight. "You're a cop, you know how it works."

Oliver ignored the jab, rolling his eyes and shifting his weight to the other foot. The chill was growing as the hour got later and he didn't much fancy staying out here much longer.

"Go home Connor." He sighed. "It's cold and it's late and I don't want to find you in the morgue by morning because you've offered to suck the wrong guy's dick. Again."

Connor looked rattled, whilst simultaneously trying his hardest to appear that he wasn't. 

"I could have taken them."

"I don't doubt that, but not in a fight." 

Connor snorted, a genuine smile momentarily hijacking his face as he allowed himself to laugh. His eyes met Oliver’s, a hint of genuine respect bubbling in the background. 

"So do you need a ride somewhere?" Oliver offered, indicating to his squad car parked further away down the street.

Connor peered back over his shoulder to the group still loitering nearby.

"Can you at least make it look like I'm not coming willingly?" He muttered. "I have a reputation to uphold. Last thing I need is those guys thinking I'm playing nice with a cop."

"You really care what they think?" Oliver chuckled.

"I'm more concerned if they tell the wrong person. That's when you're more likely to find me in a morgue." He muttered, and Oliver didn't doubt his honesty.

Oliver tutted loudly, reaching down to his belt and wrapping his hands around his cuffs. 

"If it's going to make you feel better." He lowered his voice. "But you asked for it."

He stepped forwards, wrapping a hand around Connor's right wrist, pulling his arm quickly and forcing him to spin away from him as he bent it around his back, eliciting a surprised yelp from the other man.

"You have the right to remain silent." He started, reaching for his left arm and pulling it around to his other. 

"Fuck, you're strong." Connor hissed through gritted teeth as Oliver snapped the first metal band around one wrist.

"Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you." Oliver concluded as he secured the other cuff. "Happy now?" He whispered softly, grabbing Connor's bound hands and pulling his body back flush to his chest. 

"Is this as kinky for you as it is for me?" Connor smirked triumphantly as he was dragged away in the direction of the car, stopping and struggling momentarily to at least give the impression of resistance. Oliver chose to ignore his wisecracks, not wanting to admit that the answer might be anywhere close to yes.


	3. Chapter 3

"So much for your friends having your back." Oliver chuckled to himself as they pulled up outside the dilapidated façade of Connor's apartment. "They didn't exactly rush to save you."

"Can you blame them?" Connor mumbled back. "You guys have a bit of a reputation for making decisions with your trigger finger." Oliver bit his bottom lip awkwardly. He couldn't exactly argue with that one. The silence fell between them. "So do you think you could maybe take these cuffs off now?" Connor finally piped up, fidgeting uncomfortably. 

"Shit." Oliver muttered under his breath, climbing out of the drivers seat and rushing around to the back door, pulling it open to assist his passenger. "Sorry, I forgot." He hissed, fumbling with the key awkwardly. Connor let out a sigh as the lock clicked, releasing his arms. He brought them round to his front, rubbing at his wrists gently as he pushed past Oliver to climb out onto the pavement. "You okay?" Oliver asked softly, hooking the cuffs back into his waistband, noting the slight discomfort etched on the other man's face. 

"I'm fine." He croaked. "I just wasn't expecting you to make them so tight." He paused. "You don't fuck around."

"You asked for it." Oliver shot back quickly. 

Connor's lips curved back into a smile as he looked up at his apartment. 

"So..." He started, although it was more of a quiet whistle.

"You still don't need to offer to blow me." Oliver held his hands up with a nervous chuckle, not so much out of awkward embarrassment this time. Right now he didn't entirely trust himself to decline, if only for purely selfish reasons.

"Actually, I was going to offer you a drink." Connor swallowed, an amused glint in his eye. Oliver rocked on his feet.

"I'm on duty." He sighed, his radio babbling as if on cue as he feebly tapped his badge.

"I meant coffee, Officer." Connor chuckled. "I'm not all sex, drugs and alcohol." He shuffled in the direction of his front door, peering back over his shoulder almost hopefully. "If you prefer freezing your ass off in your patrol car and drinking cheap gas station coffee then knock yourself out." 

Oliver watched as Connor pulled a set of keys from his jacket pocket and climbed the stone steps to the front door. His head was telling him it was a bad idea to follow, while his heart thumped uncontrollably against the wall of his chest, as if trying to encourage him to do otherwise.

"Fine." He finally piped up, pretending not to notice the smile spread across Connor's lips as he caught up to him. "But it's Oliver," he insisted "and I'm just to making sure you're safe." 

Connor rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. 

"I'm 23 years old. I don't need someone to tuck me in at night, Oliver." He whispered, his eyes flicking up and down the other man's body with a discreet lick of the lips as he uttered his name, holding the door open for Oliver to follow him inside. 

Oliver followed behind diligently, watching the way Connor's jeans clung tightly in all the right places. He'd never really considered Connor's age before, but having had it confirmed, he was struck by how the other man held street smarts far beyond his years. When Oliver was 23, he'd just joined the police force. Young and naive and enthusiastically bounding around New York City with the clumsiness of a newborn lamb still finding it's feet. Connor was on another level. Confidence oozed from every pore and he appeared to posess nerves of steel that Oliver couldn't help but envy. 

They climbed a worn case of stairs, wallpaper faded and peeling, splattered with a variety of questionable stains. 

"It's not exactly The Ritz in here, but I'm sure you'd guessed that already." Connor jangled his set of keys as they reached the landing, a plain, rundown door facing them. A brass number 2 screwed near the top center, albeit slightly lopsided. He pushed the front door open, indicating for Oliver to follow him.

The officer peered around the small apartment as the front door slammed shut behind him, certainly less ramshackle than Oliver had been expecting. It felt strangely homely. Cramped and disorderly yet clean and tidy. The sitting area played host to a well worn couch and TV set, a slightly outdated kitchenette occupied the corner. Light from a streetlight poured in through a large bay window, casting the shadow of the slightly discoloured slatted blinds across the room.

Connor slid past Oliver, making for the sideboard decorated by a large ornate vase that would look out of place in the apartment of any other young bachelor pad. He grabbed the vase and reached into his back pocket, pulling a wad of notes out and pushing them inside before carefully placing the vase back.

"So..." Connor turned back towards Oliver, plastering a forced smile across his face. "How do you take it?" He purred, the smile curving into a knowing smirk as he pulled his jacket from his shoulders, throwing it over the back of the couch as he moved to the kitchen. 

"Black, two sugars" Oliver called after him, moving hesitantly further into the apartment. His radio burbled suddenly and he reached for the volume dial, not wanting to be disturbed.

The walls looked worn. Plain and in need of a coat of paint, no photos or decoration, nothing to give a clue into anything more personal in Connor's life. Aside from the vase, the sideboards were surprisingly bare. No trinkets or obvious personal effects. Either Connor had none or he kept them well hidden. 

"You can sit down if you want?"

Oliver jumped as Connor's voice rang loud in his ear. He spun around to come face to face with the younger man holding out a steaming mug, his cocky smile replaced with a slightly more uncertain look.

Oliver took the mug, instinctively blowing on it gently.

"Y'know you could put that in a bank, right?" Oliver nodded towards the vase as he followed Connor towards the couch. "Or are you one of these paranoid, money under the matress types?"

"I prefer having cash." The younger man shrugged, perching on the windowsill. He grabbed a packet of cigarettes from the coffee table and balanced one between his lips as he pushed open the window with a spare hand. He waved the packet in Oliver's direction before tossing it back on the coffee table as the other man declined the offer. "Easier to spend." He added with a shrug as he brought a lighter to the end of the cylinder. Oliver found himself staring, somewhat mesmirised as the cigarette glowed orange and Connor inhaled quickly, before exhaling a stream of white smoke upwards towards the ceiling. 

"Anything in particular?" Oliver asked cautiously, slowly sipping his drink as he settled back onto the worn couch. A coy smile played on Connor's lips as he recognised the implication immediately. 

"I don't do drugs." He chuckled, flicking embers out of the open window. "Are you suggesting I look like a junkie?"

"No!" Oliver spluttered awkwardly. "I just...I wasn't suggesting, I just.." His brain raced for an excuse or a way to dig himself out of this hole, and fast.

"You're nosy, aren't you?" Connor smiled wryly, making it evident he'd taken no offence, but that the teasing was going to be far from over.

"It's my job to know what's going on with people." Oliver shrugged. Connor pursed his lips, studying the other man carefully. 

"So, why do you find me so interesting?" He started, his voice low and raspy and ridiculously seductive, whether he intended it to be or not. He swung his legs up to rest in front of him on the sill, as he flicked ash out of the open window. "I mean, there must be a reason why you're following me?"

Oliver felt his cheeks turn a deep shade of red, slowly burning up with shame, like a child being caught doing something he shouldn't. He looked away, trying to avoid the other man's no doubt self satisfied smirk. He took a breath, composing himself discreetly. He'd been faced with more daunting figures than Connor over the years, and yet somehow this was the most uncomfortable he'd felt in a long time. Connor's eyes stared at him intently, burning into him like laser beams, deep and probing. The fact he wasn't even entirely sure of the answer himself made the whole inquisition even more uneasy. 

"I guess I just wanted to check you're doing okay." Oliver lied with a shrug. Somehow he didn't think confessing to a burgeoning unhealthy infatuation with him was really the way to go. 

Connor snorted loudly, a low chuckle escaping as he took another long drag. His face suggested he was wholly unconvinced. 

"And my Sergeant told me you were 'trouble'" He whispered, trying to quickly recover. It wasn't entirely a lie. When he'd asked around the precinct, Connor's name had evoked more than a few raised eyebrows, and more thinly veiled comments than Oliver cared to remember. Every person had their own story to recount, with varying degrees of positivity, and in some cases, out and out negativity. One thing was for certain however, pretty much everyone had come across Connor at one point in their career, and ignoring his presence didn't seem to be a viable option. 

"Well, that sounds more like it." Connor grinned with a proud nod. He pulled a phone from his pocket, prodding at the screen with his spare thumb without looking up, his smile growing wider as he obviously found what he was looking for. "Your sergeant is Delfino, right?" He chuckled. "Buzzcut, ripped, tight ass?"

Oliver felt his cheeks burn further. His boss was hot, there was no denying, but he wasn't about to admit that to Connor.

"I don't...."

"Urgh, if he thinks I'm trouble then I'd definitely be up for him coming and punishing me," he sighed, pushing the phone back in his pocket, "...again."

That definitely figured.

"To be honest, I prefer to make my own opinions of people." Oliver offered, trying to change the conversation topic as quickly as possible, aiming to relieve himself of the very inappropriate thoughts he was having at that precise second, whilst simultaneously hoping he'd be able to recall them much later. "I don't think you're trouble." He shrugged feebly. "I just think you're a little bit lost?"

Connor's head snapped around quickly, his brow furrowed. He took one last drag on his cigarette before flicking the stub out of the window. 

"I really don't understand you, Oliver." He muttered, grabbing the window and pulling it shut. "How do you end up doing a job like this? You're too... nice?"

Oliver had met this misconception many times throughout his career, all too aware of how many people out there wore the same uniform than him yet had less than good intentions. He'd always tried to be better. He wanted to do the right thing, be the kind of person people trusted rather than feared. He'd always wanted to help people. While everyone else around him seemed to live like they were starring in an episode of The Shield, Oliver had only every dreamed of following Cagney and Lacey's lead, even if he did cringe at how much of a walking cliche it made him. 

"That's because you haven't seen my bad side yet." He mumbled vaguely. He wasn't a hero, and he hated how low the bar was for him merely being decent to be considered in anyway admirable. Connor stared at him again, as if summing him up. The intensity of the other man's eyes made him shiver uncomfortably, something darker and less admirable curling in his stomach and making him feel a whole host of things he didn't want to admit to. 

He stared down at his watch quickly before ambling up to his feet with a sigh. 

"I should really go." He whispered, gathering his things together and making in the direction of the door. 

"You're not running away from my questions, are you?" Connor pouted, pushing himself down from the ledge. "I have so many more to ask you!"

"That's what I'm afraid of." Oliver muttered, not missing the playful sparkle in the other man's eyes. "I'm on duty though, and I need to get back." He explained, moving closer still to the door, wanting to make a quick exit before this became any less professional than it already was. Connor followed close behind him grabbing the door as Oliver pulled it open, leaning in the door frame, arms folded loosely across his body, a triumphant smile playing at the corner of his lips. 

"So... do I get to see you again?" He purred, eyebrows raised knowingly, clearly reveling in making the other man squirm. 

Oliver tutted to himself, twiddling the dial on his radio so it slowly burbled back to life. 

" _West Street, domestic disturbance, any units able to attend?_ "

Oliver brought the unit to his lips. 

"Yeah, Hampton attending. I'm a few blocks away." 

He straightened up slowly, looking back at Connor's butter wouldn't melt expression and licked his lips. 

"Let's not make a habit of it, shall we?" He smiled politely, turning away. "Bye Connor."

There was a low chuckled behind him and he felt eyes burning into his back as he walked away. 

"See you later, Oliver."


End file.
